Reaper Society

Chapter 26: Grim

My freak-out lasts all of two seconds before Asher leaves me at the back row of lockers. He's already got a locker, apparently, and leaves me alone once I'm standing in front of the one I used last time. I reach into my front pocket and, by some miracle, the key I'd placed in there from last time is still there. I'm scowling at cubby door as I unlock it, not sure why a little tendril of disappointment has risen in me now that Asher's not back here with me.

There's no way I'd have felt comfortable changing back here when I finished showering, so why do I feel disappointed? Speaking of changing... I wonder how that's going to work out since I don't have any new clothing to call my own and Asher brought me clothes last time. But my anxieties fade when I open the door and spot a neat stack of fresh, ten clothing waiting for me inside the locker. Once again, there are underthings with the clothing, making me frown at them.

Is that standard for all trainees? To have fresh towels and clothing in the lockers? Or is it stupid to wonder if I'm special? And if it isn't normal, is it because I'm Death's kid or because of Asher?

The questions start to stray a little too close to uncomfortable territory I'd prefer to avoid at the moment. I push them aside, deciding I can wonder all I want while I'm actually bathing than stand here like an idiot, scowling at clothing. Taking the towel with me, I shut the door once again and drag my heavy feet away from the area. I don't spot my mentor as I cross from the locker portion of the room to the shower part. And maybe I'm just a little disappointed I don't spot him on my way to the showers either.

Just like the last time I came in here, I only glance into each stall quickly enough to see if it's empty or occupied. Most of the stalls closer to the locker side have a Reaper in them, so I continue down the line until I reach an empty stall. All the while, I don't spot my mentor. Part of me wants to wander around until I do find him...and maybe see if he wants to help scrub my back... But I don't.

Things between us are tense, but crossing that line would just make things awkward, and I'm not ready for that. I haven't even been a Reaper for a month! Honestly, that's another thing that both confuses and worries me: time. How am I supposed to tell time now? Is there a weird Reaper watch or something I need to get? Or does 'time' just not matter for us?

As I think, I busy myself by starting up the water, making the wonderfully, perfect-temperature spray burst enthusiastically from the nozzle in the wall. I sigh contentedly as I see the exact same set up of 'shampoo' and 'body wash' dispensers in the wall. It's really nice to be able to use as much of the stuff as I want. The old me would have rationed out just enough of each to get the job done, fearing that I wouldn't have enough in my budget for more before I could cash my next check. Or having to pass on amenities like body wash over paying rent or electricity. There had been times when I had to use watered-down dish soap to shower.

I strip out of my ruined clothes, sure now that I see the rather large holes, that I can't use them ever again after this. I briefly wonder if they repurpose the cloth or recycle the stuff somehow. It seems like such a waste if Reapers have to constantly toss out old clothing like paper towels. But maybe that's why I've seen the majority of them dressed in leather? It's tougher than plain ol' cotton.

I decide I'll have to add that to the growing list of questions I plan to ask Asher. Now that the problem from the Hellgate has passed, hopefully he'll be more willing to train me properly. At the very least, I think I can guilt-trip him into spilling some theory into our future lessons. Otherwise, I'll have to track down Tegan and Dante and pester them for information.

I'm too wrapped up in my thoughts, that I nearly jump when I notice something is wrong with my legs. Okay, not 'wrong', but that's why it freaks me out. My runes are gone.

I drop my hands from my hair, where I'd been thoughtfully massaging in shampoo, and stupidly rub at my eyes - temporarily forgetting I've got soap in them. The sudsy stuff felt nice against my scalp, but burns like fucking fire in my eyes. I let out a string of curses, my voice a little too loud to be considered mumbling at first before I remember there're others in the room with me.

I manage to modulate the word-vomit of obscenities I'm sputtering as I try to wash the soap out of my eyes with the spray, but the stuff works too well and only sudds up more. That or I'm getting extra soap from my hair now washing down into my face along with the water. The pain in my tear ducts intensifies. My word-vomit grows into growls with more vigorous language that I think I've ever used.

I vainly try to massage the shampoo from my eyes, but that makes it even worse. I can feel the thin skin around my eyes starting to prickle after I rub at it one-too-many times. Real fucking tears start mixing in with the water and I jerk away from the water in search of the towel I'd placed on the hook. My hand reaches blindly, but finds only open air.

Reflexively, I try peeking through my searing eyelids, but no...that was probably the worse thing I could have done. My growls warp into barely restrained shrieks. Suddenly, the dry, fluffy towel is pressed to my face and I grip onto it with everything I have.

"Easy, dear," A feminine voice warns me. I freeze, the urge to jerk my hands away from the towel to cover my privates burning almost stronger than my eyes. "Hold still now," The woman continues, patting at my face almost maternally. It's not Nikki's voice, however, this one's higher pitched and rings with strength. "There we go."

"Oh, uh, thanks." I blink hard as the towel comes away from my face and is draped around my shoulder. I stare at the woman in front of me, utterly confused by what I see. The woman in front of me has shoulder-length, golden-blonde curls that kink up in a near-halo around her youthful face. And yet, she looks old enough to be my aunt or mother. Her ice-blue eyes sparkle with an ageless brilliance and very familiar light...

"Sure thing," She beams at me and points at the shower behind me. "Try not to let the hot water go to waste, dear. Though it's technically infinite, it's the principle of the thing you should think about." She tells me.

"Right." I nod and clear my throat, only now realizing she's dripping water and soap suds. "Um, thanks..." I trail off, raising my eyes to the ceiling.

"Ah, you're new." The woman snaps her fingers, drawing my attention to her face again. "I'm Amaryllis Grim, but everyone calls me Amy." She reaches out with the same hand she snapped. I blink at it, seeing intricate runes running up from the second knuckles of each of her finger into what kind of looks like a black, lacy pattern of runes that span to her wrists. And then I hear her name and the last name clicks in my memory.

"You're Be's mom." I blurt, reaching out on impulse and taking her hand. We shake and the woman's eyes brighten even more.

"You know my Be?" She asks, looking wholly pleased as she releases my hand.

"We...uh...worked together." I explain with a nod. Something dark flashes in Amy's eyes and I see the hints of sadness in her expression.

"Yes," She nods somberly, bare shoulders slouching a little, as if she's carrying the weight of the world on them. "You must be Nikki's little darling, then." She adds after a moment, brightening right back up.

"Nia," I nod a little hesitantly, wondering if it's common knowledge of who my parents are or if this woman knows because she's a Grim. Dante and Tegan didn't seem to know. Either that or they're fantastic actors.

"Well, it was lovely meeting you, Nia. Please do beware of the soap in the future." Amy tells me with a serious look. "It's rather easy to slip on these tiles." She adds, nodding at the floor. I cringe, wondering what would have happened if this lady hadn't come along to help me. Even if part of me feels certain I would have eventually found the towel by myself... Well, I'm nearly seventy-five percent sure I would have been able to.

"You, too. Mrs. Grim."

"Just Amy, dear." Amy tells me with a warm smile, waving as she goes to the shower stall across the way, and starts up the water. I turn, making sure to keep my back to the open side of the stall as I release my hold on the towel and put it back on the hook. Even if it is a little damp now. I need to finish rinsing out my hair, then get dressed and track down my mentor.